


Planted

by DinnerPlate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinnerPlate/pseuds/DinnerPlate
Summary: Neville Longbottom wanted exactly one thing after the war ended, to be allowed to live in relative obscurity doing what he loved the most. So far, his plans have worked well, except for one minor hitch.  Or, lack of a hitch that is.  Neville is still very much single and as more and more former classmates tie the knot, he finds himself desperate enough to accept a blind date. But can he get his mind off of the author of some intriguing botany correspondence long enough to give his blind date a chance?
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Planted

The moon was beginning to set by the time a small _pop_ broke the silence of the night. Staggering slightly, the newly visible figure put a hand to his head a groaned aloud.

"I will NEVER try to out drink Seamus ever again."

Shuffling slowly over to the front door of the shadowy house, he stumbled slightly on the stoop as he fumbled in his pocket for his keys. It took three tries to unlock the door, but finally it swung open reveling a dimly lit foyer strewn with boots and pots and stacks of boxes. Mechanically the figure moved towards the stairs, pausing only to strip off his cloak and add it to the pile of junk on the floor and was about to put go upstairs, when a square of parchment flew out of nowhere and plastered itself directly onto his face, practically suffocating him. His moan was muffled as he wearily peeled the paper off his face, squinting to try and read it.

"Oh, forget this," he muttered after a moment of intense squinting. "Lumos."

_NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM YOU GIT. You tried to out drink Seamus, didn't you. Well buckle up buttercup, there's still work to do tonight. Those Flitterbick pods aren't going to pick themselves during the quarter moon now are they?_

Neville made a mental note to stop insulting himself in these reminders. It really was not useful.

Passing a hand through his hair, he tapped the parchment twice with his wand, and it stopped struggling to replaster itself on his face. Backing away from the stairs with a longing look, he proceeded to weave his way through the house and into his office at the back. Rummaging around in one of the many cabinets, his hand found the small jar he was looking for and automatically tipped a few drops into his mouth.

A cleansing sensation flowed over him, and he shook his head experimentally. Ah yes, every trace of the Firewhisky induced headache was gone. He stretched, suddenly ready to keep going for a little while. Bless Murgo Weed and Mandrake leaves and the hangover curing elixir they combined to create.

A _mrrrow_ got his attention and he smiled down at the large orange Kneazle who had practically materialized at his feet.

"Ah, Reg, did I miss anything tonight?"

The Kneazle blinked at him once, before turning in a circle and settling back on his haunches, staring at Neville. Neville smiled at him.

"Nothing, eh? Well, that's good."

Reg raised a paw and looked at him questioningly.

"Orders, right. Sorry old boy, your dad's a bit befuddled tonight. Keep an eye on the north corner, I swear I saw marks like someone was attempting to break in after those Snargaluff pods. I did not spend five years raising them just to have someone break in and steal the pods just as they _finally_ ripen."

The cat nodded, or at least he seemed to. Cats can't nod as we all know, but then again, this was a Kneazle. Whatever look of affirmation he gave to Neville was swiftly broken as Reg strode out through a small flap in the outside door.

Neville followed, through the human sized door of course, and breathed deeply as he entered the mild, humid air inside. The last of the moonlight filtered through the glass dome where it mingled with jars of blue fire to illuminate rows upon rows of plants, high and low, of every possible size and shape imaginable. His footsteps crunched softly on the gravel-lined walkways as he made his way through the maze. Here and there, lines of shimmering mist separated a group of plants from their fellows. Absentmindedly, Neville stuck a hand into one of the divided areas, and nodded at the cooler air he felt there.

Professor Sprout had gone absolutely wild when she'd seen the spell he and Hermione devised. They immediately found themselves at Hogwarts teaching her to duplicate the spell in the greenhouses there. Neville smiled fondly, thinking of the elderly lady. Ponoma had already informed him that when she retired, he would be taking her place. Not asked, informed. And by the look on Professor, er, Headmistress McGonagall's face, she'd done the same to her. But Ponoma was years away from retiring, so Neville had found something else to do in the meantime.

That something else was displayed in this network of greenhouses.

He reached the Flitterbick Bushes, found a small basket and gloves nearby, and began mechanically removing the silvery pods from their host, occasionally smacking an inquiring tendril away from a nearby Devil's Snare. The process was repetitive, and gave his brain plenty of time to wander. Roaming over when the Veritacular would be ripe, if the Wenzel berries would be able to fix the spots issue with his newest tincture; honestly, while being able to avoid sunburn solely by drinking a tincture was a miracle, having your freckles turn a lurid purple in the process was a definite minus. He eventually wandered back to the wedding. Seamus and Dean had looked positively radiant in their dress robes and beamed so brightly that Hermione threatened to wear sunglasses during the reception. Ron and Harry still seemed a little shocked that the two had gotten together right under their noses at Hogwarts, but really, with the absolute chaos that seemed to surround Harry, Neville wasn't surprised at all. He'd certainly noticed the budding romance, and had also gotten quite good at silencing charms around the same time. He snorted to himself as a memories floated up of their dorm at Hogwarts, face quickly sobering after a moments reflection.

"I guess that's everyone, then," he commented softly to himself, hand frozen around an unpicked pod.

Harry had married Ginny so quickly after the war was over that jokes about a shotgun wedding were made incessantly. Or, at least they were, until Ginny found out and hexed the daylights out of anyone she caught making them. Ron and Hermione were almost equally as fast, just about six months behind their friends. Dean and Seamus had waited five years before tying the knot, probably waiting to see if wizard culture followed the trends of muggle culture in lifting the stigma on their love. Thankfully, it was showing signs of doing just that. Which left... him. A sigh escaped his lips. The last one from the dormitory. Neville, the leader of the resistance during the Carrow's reign of terror. Neville, the almost chosen one. Neville, the one who slew Nagini and broke Voldemort's last link to immorality. Neville, the very single eccentric bachelor.

Popping the last pod into the basket, he turned around and leaned heavily against the table. It's not that he hadn't tried, there'd been a few girls here and there after the war was over, but every one of them seemed interested in Neville the war hero. They quickly cooled once they realized he wasn't the hunky hero they'd built him up to be, but a quiet, quirky guy with a passion for plants. It didn't bother him most days, he'd built up his exotic plant and tincture business to the point where it kept him busy enough to not worry about his love life. But when two of your best mates get married and you're the last one of the group left unhitched, well, it was no wonder he'd foolishly tried to out drink Seamus.

Two velveted paws beat at the side of his leg, startling him out of his reverie. Reg stared unblinkingly at him, eyes narrowed.

"You trying to tell me to go to bed, old boy?" The cat blinked very deliberately back, and huffed. Neville cracked a grin which quickly erupted into a yawn.

"Fine, fine, you're right, I should be sleeping. I just need to put these pods in storage and then I'll go right to bed. Is that satisfactory, sir?"

Reg gave a soft purr in response, before turning tail and going back to his patrol of the greenhouses. Neville shook his head after the Kneazle, but proceeded to do exactly as he'd promised the cat, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

..............................................

The next morning he stumbled into the kitchen at half past 10, bleary eyed and still cursing Seamus under his breath.

"Any mail, Tompkin?" he asked a Barred Owl who was perched next to the window. Tompkin hooted twice and pointed his beak towards where two letters sat on the table.

"Thanks."

Gesturing his wand over towards the counter, the remnants of yesterday's coffee were suddenly steaming and he hastily poured himself as much as he could fit into a mug with "World's #1 Plant Dad" emblazoned across the sides. His assistant Marline had a lively sense of humor and had gotten it for him for Father's Day. Honestly if she kept it up he was going to ask George if they needed another associate at the shop, she was too much some days.

One of the letters looked thicker and more like official shop business, and one was a torn scrap of parchment with "Nev" scrawled in a familiar handwriting. He unfolded it after chugging a good quarter of his coffee.

_NEV! Dean and I have a bet on when your hung over ass actually drags itself out of bed this morning. Respond with the time you woke up. He thought you'd be up by 9, I said not until 1._

_\- Seamus_

Neville felt around on the table for a quill and hastily scrawled back,

_Dean wins, 10:30. Your bets better not have the same stakes as they did in school. - N_

A sudden hooting from behind him caused Neville to jump a mile.

"MERLIN," he yelped, as a tawny owl soared down from atop the Evercool, picked up the note, and flew out the window without another sound. He turned to glare at Tompkin.

"You could have warned me he was there." Tompkin did not look apologetic in the least. "Well, as I'm awake now..."

Neville took another long draw of coffee as he pulled the thicker letter towards him. It had a funny grain to it, almost as though someone had made the parchment themselves. Curious, though some Wizarding families did do that to save money. Two pieces of parchment slid out, and he began reading the top one.

_Dear Sir,_

_I am writing to you in hopes that this letter finds you and your extraordinary collection of plants happy and healthy._

_I am attempting to track down a certain variety of plant that I remember my parents having in their garden when I grew up. The name by which they referred to it was "Dirigable Plum", though I have excellent reason to believe that is not it's true name. To complicate matters, I am unsure as to whether or not this plant is magical or mundane in nature._

_I have enclosed a drawing of the plant to the best of my memory. I hope it may help as I have given you so little to go on._

_If you determine that this plant is mundane in nature, would you be kind enough to pass on any contacts you have in the Muggle world for mundane plant enthusiasts?_

_I will, of course, compensate you for your time. Please let me know what I owe you, regardless of whether or not you can "dig up" the identity of the dirigible plum._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Ms. L._ _Doraphilius_

Neville re-read the letter several times, smiling each time at "dirigible plums". It sounded exactly like something Luna would have said in their school days.

"Wonder what ever happened to her," he muttered, before pulling out the second piece of parchment. He gasped quietly. Where he had been expecting a sketch from which no botanical information could be drawn, here instead was a gorgeous rendering of a deep green plant with spiky leaves and Remembral sized fruit of a most beautiful purple. The woman had added an approximate height, putting the plant at about three feet high. The best part was, it was completely unrecognizable to him. A thrill ran up his spine.

"A dirigible plum, eh? What are you, really?" He mused, eyes tracking all over the drawing, memorizing it. "Looks like the leaves of an Afelzaila, but Affies don't get fruit... now the fruit looks similar to a Darzenbecki, but the plant's height is all wrong. Could it be a cross breed?"

The coffee was abandoned on the table as Neville meandered automatically towards his office and the tomes of botanical books he kept there. Tompkin watched him go, before putting his head under his wing. He wouldn't see that boy for hours.

.................

Two weeks and many hours of research later, Neville was finally able to draft a response.

_Dear Ms. Doraphilius,_

_My sincerest apologies for the lateness of this reply, your letter presented a challenge that proved quite difficult to untangle. Nevertheless, I believe I have an answer to your query._

_The "Dirigible Plum" you refer to is actually an ancient crossbreed of the mundane plant Astragalus crassicarpus, or Ground Plum, and the magical plant Denaldian Drigberry, or Donald's Berry. It seems that the plant possessed a subtle magic of enhancing memories, not by any extraordinary degree, but if someone were to eat it on a special occasion, their memories of that day would stay clear for many years to come._

_Unfortunately, this crossbreed seems to have fallen out of favor in the past century, and I was unable to track down any specimens still in cultivation. It may be that there are some hidden in the nooks of a witch's garden somewhere, but for all intensive purposes, they appear to be extinct._

_I confess to be terribly interested in resurrecting this cross-breed for my own purposes, I specialize in tinctures and I believe the Dirigible Plum shows great promise in that area. If I successfully breed one, I will of course send you a specimen for your collection._

_There is no need for compensation, you sent me a most delightful challenge! If I may, I would like to keep your beautiful illustration. I have rarely seen a sketch so accurate outside of textbooks._

_Sincerely,_

_N. L..._

He hastily turned the L into a W and finished up with "Woodbridge".

Five years of practice, and Neville had still almost written his true last name. Not that he was ashamed of it, the opposite really, but he wanted his shop to flourish under it's own power, not that of his fame. Plus, it kept the droves of curious witches and wizards away.

He gave the letter to Tompkin, reverently hung the drawing up on his wall, and went back to his plants thinking that until he managed to produce a crossbreed, that was the end of this little adventure.

Obviously, he was wrong.

.........

"Neville. Neville. NEVILLE!"

Neville jumped a mile as Ginny's voice finally broke through his concentration.

"Did you forget that you offered to watch James today?" her accusatory tone was laced with amusement.

"Er..." he hastily looked at the calendar, "not forgot, as much as lost track of what day it is." He grinned sheepishly at her, eyes trying to focus. "Where..." he trailed off, looking for the boy.

"He's trying to find Reg with Harry."

"I wish them the best of luck with that endeavor," he chuckled.

"What _are_ you working on, Nev? This place looks like a cross between a war zone and Hermione's table at the library before OWLS." She leaned over to get a better glace at the books.

"A project, actually. I've been corresponding with a woman who keeps asking about these plants she remembers from her father's garden with unusual names, plants she can't find heads or tails of in the muggle or magical world. I've been helping her track down what they are, or what I surmise they are in most cases. Many are crossbreeds between magical and mundane plants that have long since gone out of fashion and no longer are in cultivation."

"Is that what these drawings are?" Ginny asked, peering at the six illustrations that now held a proud place on the office wall.

"Yes, she's quite a keen and observant artist. Those are illustrations of each of the plants she's asked me about."

"Dirigible Plum? Those are the things Luna used to mention! They're... real?"

"In a way, or they will be once the crossbreeds I have going in Greenhouse F begin growing. Say, Gin, what ever happened to Luna anyway?"

"She was engaged to that Scamander bloke, but they broke it off for some reason. She was a bit vague about that. She's gone back to her old family homestead, got some help building a new little house the last I heard. I haven't written to her in a while..."

"I haven't kept up with her at all. Not that I knew her all that well, but I always liked her. Strange, but in a good way."

"I definitely need to write her... remind me when we pick James up after the game?"

"Use a Rememnote. It'll smack you in the face when you come back in the house."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! George and Hermione came up with them, pretty brilliant if you ask me."

"George and Hermione... that's utterly terrifying."

"But genius."

"Mad genius. Nev, are you happy?"

Neville blinked at the sudden turn of conversation.

"I... am I what?"

"Are you happy?"

"Ye-es? Where are you going with this?"

"Well Harry and I, and some others, we're worried about you, Nev. All alone in this place all the time..."

"I see you lot quite frequently."

"That's not the point! You need someone around here, or at the very least some friends who live closer to you."

Neville winced. That last bit was a fair point, he lived nowhere near the rest of the gang.

"I do meet a lot of people in the Herbology circles..." he protested weakly.

"Whatever happened to that Catherine girl?"

"Wasn't too pleased that my life revolved around plants."

"Well, you are an odd duck Nev, and I say that with love. Hmm..." Ginny grew thoughtful, staring at the drawings on the wall.

"I don't trust that look on your face," Neville eyed her warily.

"Neville, how much do you trust me?"

"That's a terrifying question coming from you. A good bit, but at the moment, not at all. Why?"

"If I managed to arrange a blind date for you, would you go?"

"Ummmm..." Neville paused, shocked. "Actually, yeah, I probably would. You know me pretty well and I don't think you'd set me up with anyone too terrible."

Ginny gave a crack of laughter at this response.

"HA! Thanks for that vote of confidence. I'll have to talk to the other person first, but I have a feeling you two will hit it off."

"Hey Neville!" Harry stuck his head in, James waving from his back. "Gin, you're going to be late if we don't get going."

"Oh MERLIN'S BLOODY"

"LANGUAGE, GINNY."

"... biscuits?" Ginny and Harry caught each other’s eyes and started laughing.

"Thanks for watching James during the game, Nev! Tea, after?" Harry lowered James to the floor, who promptly toddled straight into Neville's arms.

"Absolutely. Good game, Ginny. Knock 'em dead."

"Oh I aim to," Ginny winked, "and, I will see what I can do about what we discussed."

"Fine, I guess," Neville replied warily. James burbled something incoherent.

"It will be fine!" Ginny yelled over her shoulder as she grabbed Harry and whirled out of the room. "Have fun with Uncle Neville, James!"

After two scrunches of gravel outside indicated the Potters had taken off, Neville let out the breath he'd been holding. A blind date? What had he just agreed to?

James looked straight at him and said solemnly, "Ta ka da."

"You are right," he replied, "Your mum will do what she pleases and the rest of us just have to roll with it. Ready to see the greenhouses?"

James lit up with excitement, and the two exited the messy room for the humid warmth of the greenhouses.

................

_Dear Mr. Woodbridge,_

_Thank you so much for the update on the Dirigible Plum experiment! I am as excited as you that the new batch of seedlings have sprouted and show signs of being the cross we are looking for._

_I must confess, your last letter made me laugh. My correspondence is payment enough for all your hard work on these mysteries? You must be as lonely as I! I thank you though, I have also been enjoying these letters. It is nice to talk to someone else who shares my love of obscure plants. Everyone in school thought I was quite loony for believing in them._

_I have another mystery for you, if you are up for it. I discovered this flower growing on the outskirts of my family's home. It looks similar to the Dittany I remember using in Potions class, but the color and the petal shape seem wrong somehow. Perhaps I am remembering Dittany wrong, it is possible, Potions was not a class I excelled in and do not enjoy recalling. If you have any ideas, please let me know!_

_Yours truly,_

_L. Doraphilius_

_Dear Ms. Doraphilius,_

_Everyone at school thought I was a bit nutty for enjoying obscure plants as much as I did as well, you are not alone there! But I am glad I never let it stop me. Though I am an utter disappointment to my late Gran who hoped I'd be an important Auror or Ministry man._

_It's funny, my friends have also made a comment insinuating that I am lonely. I suppose in a way, I am. My plants and greenhouses are great companions, but not in the same way as a human, you know? I've never been one to want to be around others constantly, but I will confess, I have been feeling lonely recently and been enjoying these letters as well. Your plant queries have led me down so many paths of research I never would have considered! I am genuinely excited whenever I see your handwriting on a letter, knowing it will contain a new mystery. I am glad that we seem to be mutually enriching each other's lives._

_As to your Dittany query, from the looks of it the Dittany has been "flashed" by something. "Flashed" is a term used in the community to indicate that the flower or seeds mutated in the presence of a magical object, aura, spell, or radiation. You said it was found at the edge of your family's property? Do you know of anything that may have happened there that would have caused the Dittany to be flashed? It could have happened during the War, herboligists have been discovering more and more flashed strains of plants over the years, especially in areas where battles occurred. Professor Sprout at Hogwarts has counted 18 new varieties on the campus alone!_

_If the population of your flashed Dittany gets to a sustainable point, I would love to acquire a sample of it. I am curious as to how the properties have changed and if it would be of new use in potions and tinctures._

_Yours truly,_

_N. Woodbridge_

_Dear Mr. Woodbridge,_

_I have a good guess as to what caused the flashed Dittany. During the war there was an attack on my family's home, where my father was still living. He had what I now know was an Erumptant horn, which, when it was disturbed in the chaos, exploded. Would that be a satisfactory magical disturbance enough to cause a flashed plant?_

_Your comment about not being one to want to be around others constantly, and yet feeling lonely at the same time struck me. That is quite a good way of summing it up. I crave the space to be alone, yet inevitably am left with the feeling of being too alone in the world, as if..._

A sharp peck interrupted Neville's reading.

"OW mate, what was that for?" he asked of a tiny fluffy of an owl who was now flying circles around his head, twittering madly. Irritably, he tried to coax the owl downward to no avail. "Come on you fluffy snitch, just, bloody LAND would you?"

A loud and imperious _HOOT_ sounded from the corner, and the tiny ball of feathers dropped to the table, shivering.

"Thanks Tompkin," Neville tossed over his shoulder as he struggled to untie the scrap of parchment.

_Nev, blind date is on. Saturday next. Please tell me you have a decent place to eat in Devonshire. She'll have a blue cloak on._

Heat worked it's way up Neville's neck and into his cheeks. Next Saturday? A date with an entirely unknown entity? Well... he supposed it couldn't hurt, even if he didn't hold out much hope.

_Deal. 7pm, McReally's on Allen Street. Brown cloak._

Tying the note back onto the little owl's leg was a delicate process, but finally it was secured and the owl zoomed off, hooting happily to itself. Neville and Tompkin stared after it, before exchanging a look of disgust.

"Tiny show off. What did she name that thing again? Pudgion? Pidgy? Pigmalion? Oh, Pigwidgeon, that's right." Tomkin only hooted derisively.

Neville sighed, and picked Ms. Dorphilius's letter back up as a way to escape his impending sense of doom.

.......................................................................

Saturday dawned bright and clear, with the first frost of the fall scattered across the ground. Neville practically moped through his chores that day, tending his plants in so distracted a manner that a Devil's Snare got a good grip on him, and it took a half hour and a _Incendio_ cast with his off-hand to subdue it. As the day dragged closer and closer to seven, Neville finally forced himself to leave the sanctuary of the greenhouses, pausing in the office to drink in Ms. Doraphilius's drawings, before heading reluctantly upstairs to ready himself.

At ten till seven he was walking briskly along Allen Street, wanting to ensure that he was ready and waiting for whoever this date was. Not that he didn't exactly distrust Ginny, but more than once he wondered if she'd really found someone good, or whether this was just another ploy to rid him of his supposed lonely state.

Ahead, he spied a young woman in a dark blue cloak lingering near the entrance to McReally's. Something about her seemed familiar, the stature maybe? Her hair was shockingly blonde; in fact, he'd only seen that shade once before on a girl...

"Luna?" He asked, tentatively, as he drew even with the blue-cloaked girl. She turned around and surprise flashed across her usually calm features.

"Neville! This is a surprise. What are you doing here on this fine evening?" Luna's voice trailed off slightly as she took in Neville's brown cloak.

"Looking for you, I believe," he replied, with an awkward attempt at a smile.

"That Ginny," Luna replied with one of her gentle smiles, "she means well at least. What was it that made her set you up with someone?" Neville was taken aback for a moment, having forgotten how sweetly blunt Luna could be. He quite liked it.

"She's worried about me living alone, and so far away from the rest of the old crowd," he admitted, subconsciously fiddling with his wand in its holder. "You?"

"Much the same reason, I expect," she replied thoughtfully. "I'm living on the grounds of my childhood home, the house was lost during the war but after everything that happened, it still felt like the safest place to settle. It is quite rural though."

"I..." Neville searched his mind for a moment. "You weren't at Hogwarts, during the war, were you? Honestly I don't choose to remember much from that year, but you were a DA member and I feel like I would have remembered seeing you around at least."

Luna grew unusually solemn for a moment.

"I was not. I was... elsewhere."

"Luna?" Neville asked, deeply concerned by this abrupt change.

"Excuse me sir, but your table is ready," a waiter interrupted before Luna could respond. She broke out of her reverie and smiled gently at him.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"If you would like, I hope you like the place, McReally's is the best food we have in town."

"I am ready for anything I don't need to cook for myself," Luna laughed.

Neville found himself chuckling with her, and together they walked into the warmth of the restaurant.

Neither one of them brought the war up again, each unwilling to pursue that dark topic, but as food and drink flowed their conversation spun through old Hogwarts memories, DA shenanigans, and wondering about old professors. The conversation felt natural, and Neville found himself wishing he'd made more of an effort to spend time with Luna at school.

"I did love Herbology," Luna stated wistfully after he mentioned Professor Sprout. "All those different plants with their different needs. And they were alive, unlike all our other classes. There was something nice about working with living things, wouldn't you say?"

"Absolutely. Did I tell you that I actually work with plants, for a living, now? We got so caught up in reminiscing that I forgot to mention it!"

"You do?" Luna lit up with interest, and Neville was momentarily arrested by how bright her eyes were when she was excited. "Tell me about it!"

"Well, I grow and sell a most of the magical plants that are good for potions use, and I've also started a different branch of the business where I've been creating tinctures. Not quite potions, but more, herbal remedies?"

Luna nodded, the movement sending shimmers through her hair.

"Dad is... was... curious about the same things. Not overly brewed substances, I'm not sure he ever trusted potions all that much, but things that used the natural elements of the plants in their pure form."

"Sounds like we would have gotten along," Neville replied, softly. Almost of it's own accord, his hand reached out and gently covered hers in a gesture of sympathy. A sad smile crossed Luna's face as she nodded.

"You would have."

"I..." Neville stuttered, at a complete loss for words, "Would you like to see it? The greenhouses, I mean," he amended as she looked at him, confused.

"Oh, yes, Neville that would be lovely! Are they far?"

"Not at all, as long as you don't mind a short walk to the edge of town," Neville signaled for the check while grinning happily at her enthusiasm.

"A small price to pay," Luna replied, her smile bright.

A short while later the pair strolled up the driveway of Neville's house, a full moon rising high overhead, glinting brightly off the greenhouses.

"Neville it's beautiful," Luna exclaimed. Neville blushed, despite himself.

"It's not much, but I built this all up from scratch and it's... it's home." He struggled to find the words to convey what this place meant to him, but as Luna squeezed his arm, he realized the point had gotten across despite his stumbling words.

"Here, we'll go in though the office so you can leave your cloak in there. Won't be much need for it out in the greenhouses." He steered her towards the outside entrance to the office, unwilling to lead her through the utter chaos that was his front hall at the moment. They stepped inside, Neville wincing at the place being far messier than he remembered leaving it. Shucking his cloak onto a peg, he reached his hand out to take Luna's cloak, only to find her staring at the wall, hands frozen on the clasp of her cloak.

"Luna?" He asked, concerned. She'd gone pale as a ghost.

"Whe... where did... where did you get those drawings?" she finally stammered out, staring wide-eyed at the collection of illustrations on the wall.

"Those? They're from a client, well, more of a correspondent really. She's been writing to me for months now asking what various plants were she remembered from her family's garden or found herself on the property. All started with a query about a..."

"A Dirigible Plum?" Luna had turned back to him with the strangest mix of joy and confusion lighting her eyes.

"Yeah, actually how did you..."

"Mr. Woodbridge?" she asked, quirking a smile. Neville stopped dead and just stared at her, heart hammering in his chest. There was no way she knew, he hadn't told her that part yet, so the only logical conclusion was...

"Ms. Doraphilius?" He managed to eek out. She gave a tiny, astonished nod.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU USE YOUR REAL NAME?!" they both practically shouted at the exact same time, before breaking into astonished laughter. Neville, recovering first, held out his hand for her cloak which he hung up before collapsing into the desk chair still chuckling. Luna snagged a spare chair he kept for clients and sat backwards astride it, facing him. She was grinning wildly.

"You first, 'Mr. Woodbridge'," she said, gesturing towards him. Neville raked his fingers through his hair.

"Well... I was getting a lot of attention after the war, you see. All sorts of people interested in the great hero who cut off Nagini's head and made Vol... He Who... him, mortal again." Luna nodded, encouragingly. "And it was bothering me. Got to the point where people would hear my name and stop in the streets and whisper to each other. So when I bought this property, I started my business under the name Woodbridge. Kept all the gawkers away, yah know? Let me just be... normal."

"That makes perfect sense," she replied solemnly.

"What about you?" he asked, leaning forward so their eyes were locked. "Why go by Doraphilius?"

"I was tired of being 'Loony'," she replied, with utter honesty. Neville winced, remembering her school nickname. "It wasn't just my own reputation either. My dad... my dad was the editor of the Quibbler. No one took him seriously. He... died. In the war." She closed her eyes briefly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "So I decided to shape a new name for myself. Names are powerful, you know? Doraphilius honors both of my parents, so that I can feel them with me without carrying the weight of the Lovegood name. I'm still quite strange, though." She smiled dreamily at the end. Neville, who couldn't take his eyes off of her, nodded in understanding.

"He was a good man, Luna. Printed some of the only truth out there especially as the war got worse and worse."

"Thanks," she paused to wipe the tear away.

"I still can't believe _you're_ Ms. Doraphillius," Neville shook his head in amazement. Luna's light laugh filled the room.

"And I can't believe you're the Mr. Woodbridge I've been writing to for months! I..." Luna blushed. "I was being honest when I said I enjoyed writing to you."

"As was I. Honestly, Luna... I... I was falling for Ms. Doraphilius. I was more interested in her than going on this blind date of Ginny's."

"I was falling for you too," she replied, softly. "I only came tonight as a favor to Ginny. She has no idea what she meddled in," Luna ended with a grin.

"Not in the slightest!" Neville replied, "I'm grateful she did, though."

"I am too. Who knows if we would have met otherwise."

A poignant silence filled the room as they locked eyes and then glanced away, both blushing.

"Well," Neville broke the silence and slowly stood, holding his hand out to Luna, "Ms. Doraphilius, would you care to see the greenhouses?" Luna beamed at him as she stood up and took his hand, a thrill coursing through both of them at the touch.

"Mr. Woodbridge, it would be an honor."

...............................................

Decades later, friends remarked that Luna and Neville's wedding still stuck out with strange clarity in their minds. The two would nod politely and agree that it was quite strange, before sharing a secret smile. As it turned out, Dirigible Plums had exactly the effect Neville thought they might, and were also undetectable if one wanted to, say, spike the wine at one's wedding.


End file.
